Parenting Through – Part 1

I think my dad loved me.
But I think he gave up.

And that’s a sentence I couldn’t have written a few years ago.
Back then, I saw him as cold. Detached. Emotionally unavailable at best — destructive at worst.

But today, I felt something in myself I imagine he felt too.
The quiet collapse. The burnout that doesn’t come from doing too much, but from holding too much.
The weight of responsibility without the regulation.
The pressure to be something solid, when inside you feel like smoke.

And in that moment, I saw him differently.

Not as someone who didn’t care — but as someone who cared too much, and didn’t know how to carry it.
Someone who didn’t feel supported.
Who maybe believed he was doing more harm than good.
Who hated himself for it.
Who slowly backed away, because the alternative — staying and watching himself fail — was unbearable.

And I get it now.
Not because I agree with it. But because I’ve felt the edges of that same despair.

The difference is, I have more tools.
More support.
More space to reflect.

But that doesn’t make this easy. It just makes it possible.

And that’s what this series is going to be about.

Not performative healing.
Not perfect parenting.
Just what it means to try — really try — to be present and whole for your child when no one did that for you.

To hold your child while holding your grief.
To stay. Even when it hurts.
To parent through the pain you inherited.

Reflective Question for You:
Is there someone in your life whose actions might make more sense when seen through the lens of their capacity, rather than your expectations?